


Sand & Sea

by 13thDoctor



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Developing Relationship, Extended Metaphors, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 01:16:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6402295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/13thDoctor/pseuds/13thDoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To John Silver, James Flint is like the sand.<br/>To James Flint, John Silver is like the sea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sand & Sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JHarkness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JHarkness/gifts).



> I am ensorcelled by this show, and obsessed with this relationship. I hope I have given both justice.

To John Silver, James Flint is like the sand. John was never a fan of the sea, but the sand meant land, something onto which he could hold, if only for a moment. Sand, like the Captain, is rough and irritating. It spreads over him, inside him, consumes him, like James’ hands when he runs them down his body. Sand is so hot during the day, blazing bright and promising violence to all. It assaults. It cannot be tamed nor contained. At night, however, it cools; it’s soft and wet and malleable. John’s hands slide through James’ slick hair like the tide-washed surface, and James’ beard burns the inside of his thighs with the same intensity of the sun-scorched earth.

Beaches house towns and people. James has kept secrets for both. He has lifted them up when they fall, and he has covered them when they are at their most vulnerable. Captain Flint can help or hinder, but it depends on the will of the elements, the extent of his emotions. Sand can be molded in much the same way he can be appealed, if one is only willing to try.

Sand promises buried treasure. James’ mouth, well, that offers something else entirely. But God if the two don’t make him moan with pleasure all the same, keep him up at night with fantasies when they aren’t around. The image of gold coins scattered across the sand is almost as tempting as the image of that same metal scattered across James’ tan chest.

There is nothing permanent about sand, of course. It crumbles. Falls. Men stamp on it and build over it and then knock those buildings down. James has been beaten, hard. And yet he amasses his strength and bites back, sand whipped into a frenzied storm. That is when Silver thinks he is at his best. He is primal, wild, and unrestrained. That side of him is present in a fight and when John begs him to fuck him harder, faster.

So the sand is kind and unkind. It hurts and it doesn’t. And John, well, John loves it and he doesn’t. Isn’t it, isn’t _he,_ simply a means to an end? A place to rest his foot as he makes his way to a better life.

Somehow along the way, John found himself needing the sand and all its cruel offerings, despite its lies, injustices, insults. There was a need when John kissed James. As time passed, and the jaggedness of James’ exterior weathered, a tumble in the dark became making love in the lazy afternoon sun. That scared Silver like the beach after a hurricane, littered with debris and unknowns.

Remembering the taste of James’ lips, that was a risk John felt willing to take.

…

 

To James Flint, John Silver is like the sea. It is the roll of his hips and his tongue. It is the salt on his skin when James is on his knees, tasting him. It is the ups and downs of his chest against James’ own. And it is the peak of his pleasure, how his back arches like a wave before he crashes down over his Captain. His body is wet when he pulls away from him, out of him, like the water’s withdrawal during the day. When they touch in the evening, Flint knows he has been claimed by the man like the sea claims a sinking ship.

Silver’s arrival on his crew was the desperation of the deep sea. He flung himself inland and toppled over many rocks and dead bodies to get to his beach. Yet when the tide came in, it was smooth and steady. A gentle brush of lips on skin. Silver, like the sea, made the crew adore him in time. He made them feel as if they belonged with him and as if he could protect them. He buoyed his morality, which appealed to pirates, of course. The trough of his stay was when the crew did not listen to nor respect him. Flint likewise hated him ruthlessly for this period. But then John began to climb, picked up speed and force. James often wondered what would occur at the crest, and then at the inevitable downfall. Would John drag him below, too?

John had already drowned his body. He drowned in that complacent mouth. He had barraged his resolution with secrets; his tongue was made for creating and unraveling alike. That was the purpose of the ocean, as well. To take in those too weak to resist and become stronger in their demise. James had seen men destroyed in the ocean.

He could almost welcome destruction in John’s hands, especially once fists on his jaw became fingers under his shirt. Silver’s eyes were so blue that James considered at times that the sea was in him, represented in his words and actions on land. A force of nature. He could carry men or he could ruin them.

The sea was all James had left. It was all he wanted and all he needed. And perhaps, despite how much it terrified him, John was, too.


End file.
